Whatsa matter, baby? Somebody made you mad?

I'm constantly getting harangued by homeless people. Mostly it's about my smile. If I'm smiling (if the day is so rare...oh, drama dram drama), they like it and sometimes tell me I'm pretty. If I'm not smiling, they ask me why I'm not. Karl talks about getting upset when people ask him why he isn't smiling, or when they tell him to smile. I don't feel exactly the same way, but.... I don't know. If it's the second situation, 99% of the time, I'll nervously smile in response. If I have a sense of humor that day.

Anyway, the title of this post was said to me last night and it made me...smile. It's nice when I can be reminded not to take myself and everything else so seriously.

A text I got today:

I think that at the conclusion of the Inspector Gadget series, Gadget should have captured Doctor Claw's cat, taken him to the vet, and had him de-clawed. That would have taught kids not only how to be clever, resourceful and ironic, but also the heart-warming rewards of stick-to-it-iveness.

From Craig. My friends. My friends.

I woke up late today. Then I spent over two hours watching the first few episodes of Carnivale, the HBO series from a few years back. I'm in love already. And I want Clea DuVall's haircut.

I'm not sure what's going to change in my life--or when-- but something has to. Because I can't go on with such a low level of productivity/motivation/inclination to do ANYTHING. I'll just stop being alive if I expend any less energy on a daily basis than I am now. Like a slug, or a sloth.

Hey, at least I have a phrenology head t-shirt.

Sigh.